The Pianist
by CodeisSherlocked
Summary: After a case, Sherlock has found someone he likes. John swears that he's not jealous, but what has this new man in Sherlock's life got that John hasn't? Just piano skills? Or is there more?
1. Change

**Disclaimer: I don't own Sherlock, all rights go to Sir Arthur Conan Doyle, Mark Gatiss and Steven Moffat.**

They don't really know when things changed, all they know is that they had. It wasn't drastic, it wasn't ending in them not being friends anymore. It had just changed.

Sherlock had changed more than anything, he was more open, more sentimental. Quite frankly, that was frightening at first. It wasn't a bad change, far from it, but it was, without a doubt, a weird one. Even with all these changes, hands down the most shocking change was that Sherlock was in love. That's right, in love. John can still remember the day it happened.

John was typing away on his laptop leisurely. A case had just been solved and he wanted to write about it as soon as possible so he wouldn't miss the details. This case was very complicated and full of different intricacies that he just couldn't afford to miss. Sherlock had gone out, he's not quite sure where since he didn't tell him, it was strange to think about since Sherlock hardly ever just "goes out" this thought brought John's typing to a stop. The suspicious aspect of that scenario just hit him hard in the face. Sherlock doesn't just "go out" without a distinct reason such as, more often than not, a case. He decided to check his phone for any texts, there may have been a case and Sherlock just hasn't needed his help. No texts. John settled on it being a case that didn't involve his amateur intellect and began typing again.

He can't recall how long it was after that when the door opened and footsteps sounded up the stairs. All he knows is, he finished his blog entry. As suspected, Sherlock walked through the door. What was unexpected was the beaming smile on his usually sullen face. It was quite scary, but also endearing to see his flatmate looking so happy. Sherlock takes his beloved coat off and hangs it up before striding over to his chair and sitting down.

"you look very… Happy" John points out simply. Of course, he didn't expect to say this simple statement and not get Sherlock's sarcastic whip back at him.

"Good deduction John, very good, what tipped you off? My smile?" He asks, voice so heavy with sarcasm that John could hear each word thud onto the floor. He decided to ignore that.

"So, what's got your smile marks out to play?" He asked. Sherlock's smile was still intact as he began to explain.

"Just went out for dinner with someone I met on the case." John felt like he had just been slapped in the face. Twice. First one, Sherlock went out to EAT, and second, he went to eat WITH SOMEBODY. That was just wrong. John had never once seen Sherlock in an actual relationship; Janine doesn't count.

"So, uh… Who's the lucky girl?" He asked. Sherlock's head whipped up to look at him, curly locks bouncing with the movement.

"Do you seriously think I went out with a woman, John? I thought I'd dropped enough hints." He replied. John's mouth fell agape. He hadn't picked up on that at all. Knowing Sherlock, his hints were of an extravagant form, like carving it into a tree on a case, or shooting the wall to form a word. Sherlock never did things the casual way.

"Okay then… Who's the lucky man?" He asked again, changing the gender. Sherlock takes in a breath before relaying information.

"His name is Wesley… Wesley Lizowski. He is a very good pianist." A pianist? John could play piano, he could play "Twinkle, Twinkle" with ease. Why was he examining his own piano skills? He wasn't jealous. Absolutely not.

"So, was it a date?" He inquired, eyes downcast, looking at his cup of tea before lifting it to his lips. Sherlock shifted in his seat, mischief glinting in his blue orbs.

"You're jealous" he states. John was taken by surprise with that comment, showing it through choking on his sip of tea. Sherlock smirked and leaned back in his chair looking pleased, crossing one leg over the other and rubbing at his bottom lip with his middle finger. He knew. There was no point in lying, it would be as effective as reading with your eyes shut. Even though he knows the probability of Sherlock believing him is 0/10, he still gives it a go.

"I'm not jealous, just curious. For as long as I've lived here, I have never seen you go on a date." As expected, Sherlock saw right through it, raising an eyebrow at the ex-soldier. John played innocent though, looking back at his tea before taking a successful sip. Sherlock must have seen no point in trying to prod the doctor to admit the truth, instead he whipped out his phone and checked for texts. A small smile adorned his face at a certain name that appeared on his screen. John glanced up, catching the smile before diverting his gaze back to his beverage.

"Is it a case?" John asked curiously. Sherlock quickly typed back a response whilst answering John's question.

"No, it's just Wes" they've already exchanged numbers? John couldn't describe this overwhelming feeling in his stomach. It was like a boulder was hanging from a string in his chest and suddenly it crashed to his stomach. A very powerful and sickening feeling. Maybe Sherlock was right. When wasn't he right? John shook his head, refusing to believe that he had been possessed by the green eyed monster over Sherlock being with this man. John nodded, trying to seem nonchalant.

"I see…" Sherlock looks up at John, reading his gestures like an open book.

"You have questions" he states. John glances up, locking eyes with his flatmate. Yes, he did have questions, but asking them may make him seem a bit weird. For example, are they together? If so have they kissed? Is he tall? Is he better looking than himself? And so on. Of course, he didn't ask any of these questions.

"What is he like?" John inquired. That question sounds far less intrusive and, hopefully, keeps jealousy off the plate. Sherlock gave John a skeptical look, not believing that was the exact question he wanted to ask. Nevertheless, he answered it.

"He's very nice, smart too. He's also quite chivalrous and attractive. Anything else you want to know?" John could feel the pressure in his stomach getting worse. He shook his head, signalling that he had no more questions to ask the curly-haired man. Sherlock could tell that John was going to keep the rest of the questions locked up and out of reach, so he decided not to pry. One thing he knows about John is if he doesn't want you to know then there's little to no chance that he'll tell you. With a defeated sigh, Sherlock stood up and made his way to the kitchen.

"When you decide to ask the rest of the questions, I'll be working on an experiment." John rolled his eyes 'what else is knew?' He thought before getting up and heading to his room to get ready for work.


	2. Date

After the talk about Sherlock going out with this Wes guy, the following week was filled with recurring dates. Sherlock would be gone for hours at a time, every few days, with this man. Quite frankly, John didn't like it. He didn't like that his flatmate was going out all the time. No matter how selfish that made him sound, he didn't like it. He liked having Sherlock in the flat all the time, he liked knowing where to find him. He didn't like not knowing where he was and what was going on. John let out a sigh before continuing to make his half prepped tea. He shouldn't be thinking like this, Sherlock has a life of his own. He shouldn't try to keep the man grounded, he was going out and having fun. He needed that, no matter how much John wants him to stay, he needs time out of the flat. As he stirred the sugar in his tea to dissolve it, John decided it was about time he found a date. Someone to take his mind off of things, make himself seem less clingy and protective of his flatmate. With a curt nod to himself, he picked up his tea and went to his laptop to check his dating website account. There we go, a lovely woman he could go on a date with.

After getting in contact with the woman from the website, he shut down and put his laptop away and headed to have a shower. He had arranged to meet her at Angelo's at 8. As he stepped into the shower, his thoughts drifted off to Sherlock again. Not the best time to be thinking of his flatmate, but that didn't stop his mind. The mention of Angelo's sent him right back to the first time he and Sherlock met. The awkward conversation at Angelo's before running after a taxi. A small smirk curled the edge of his lips. What a time that was.

After towelling himself dry and getting dressed, John headed out to the living room. He had an hour before he had to get to Angelo's so he decided to sit down and watch some crap telly to pass time.

He started making his way to Angelo's at about 7:50, just to make sure he wouldn't be late. He was quite excited, he hadn't been on a date in a while. This was mainly because Sherlock interrupted all of them, but he couldn't do that today. As he approached Angelo's, he spotted Cheryl, his date, stood outside. She was a tall woman, blonde shoulder length hair lightly curled, beautiful cinnamon brown eyes and a slender frame. John quickly gave himself a check over on how he looked in a window of the shop next to him and walked up to her.

"Hello, you must be Cheryl" he greeted politely, holding out his hand. Cheryl turned to look at him, taking a minute to register who he is.

"Yes, that's me, you must be John" she replied whilst reaching out to shake his outstretched hand. She seemed nice enough. John, being the gentleman he was, opened the door for her and guided her to a table before ordering their meals. Cheryl rambled on about her work and that she reads John's blog. It was steadily growing less and less interesting, she was a chatterbox. John didn't get on well with those types of people. He can handle some of them, but Cheryl was barely taking a breath before going onto another subject. John was glad when their food arrived, Cheryl kept quiet when she was eating.

As John was eating his food he heard an all too familiar voice followed by a laugh. He turned his head slowly, trying to seem inconspicuous. Only one person had a voice like that, and he was sat in the booth on the other side of the room. Sherlock was sat with, what he assumed was, Wesley. Sherlock had a smile plastered on his face, laughing at something Wesley had said. His lips pressed into a thin line at the scene. Quickly, he turned his head back to Cheryl who was just finishing her food.

"So, you're a doctor right? And you assist Sherlock Holmes on his cases?" She continued her ramble. John nodded at her questions, watching Sherlock out of his peripheral vision. He wasn't really listening to Cheryl, it's not like she's leaving room for him to answer anyway. From the corner of his eye, he sees Sherlock and Wesley splitting the bill before standing up. Wesley walks Sherlock out of the restaurant, a hesitant hand moved to place itself on Sherlock's lower back. After seeing that Sherlock doesn't recoil from the touch, his hand becomes more firm in its place. It may have settled okay with Sherlock, but not with John. John was about to get up and leave until he remembered he was on a date. So he decided to make an excuse.

"Sorry, I must go, family emergency" he says, breaking Cheryl's long string of words. Cheryl looks at him with concern.

"Oh, I see, well I hope to see you again John, this was fun" she replied, smiling sweetly at him. John returned the facial gesture.

"I hope so too, see you again Sherl-Cheryl" John managed to catch his mistake, but not quick enough judging by the look on his date's face. After that, John quickly left the restaurant.

Sherlock was walking back to the flat with Wesley after an eventful day with him. Wesley's hand on his lower back was a surprise, but was welcomed. It was nice a nice feeling, it was strange how a hand on his back felt so intimate. It was probably because Sherlock had never actually been in a relationship. All of this was new to him, so stuff that is seen as miniscule in a relationship to others means so much more to him. This is why Wesley was being so hesitant, he didn't want to overwhelm his date. Sherlock appreciated that he was taking his feelings into consideration. Wesley was a really nice guy and Sherlock could definitely feel an attraction to him. He had never experienced this feeling before, but it was a wonderful one. He knew John was jealous about Wesley and himself. He wasn't sure why though, John constantly denied being gay and having any feelings for Sherlock, so why was he jealous? Was it because John hadn't gone out with anyone for a while? Whatever reason it was, Sherlock would figure it out eventually. For now, he'll just let John dwell in his jealousy and maybe he'll reveal more clues to him along the way.


	3. Wesley

John followed the couple all the way back to the flat, stopping at a place to hide first which happened to he behind a bin. He crouched down, out of view of the two figures and watched them walk the last couple of steps. Slowly, Wesley removed his hand from Sherlock's back and pulled him into a hug. Sherlock reciprocated, encircling his arms around the, slightly taller, man's semi-muscular frame. He wasn't a bodybuilder, he wasn't incredibly ripped,but he was toned. He was obviously a fit man. With his dark brown tousled jaw length hair and striking emerald green eyes, he was the picture of an attractive man. He seemed like the type of man that could make girls swoon with his bright smile and chiseled face and not even know it was him. John couldn't help but scowl. This man was good looking and had a lovely personality, according to Sherlock. This man was amazing and John can't see Sherlock ever letting him go. This angered John for unknown reasons, or reasons he dared not admit to. Sherlock was happy, it was plainly obvious, so why couldn't John be happy for him? Why couldn't he just set all of this to the side and allow Sherlock to do what he wants? John pondered this as the two figures whispered between each other.

"John is behind the bin" Sherlock whispered, face buried in the crook of Wesley's neck. Wesley chuckled quietly at his statement,arms firmly wrapped around Sherlock's lower waist.

"Maybe he's concerned? Or jealous?" He whispered back, providing some suggestions. Sherlock nods against his neck, agreeing with him. They stand in silence. Not an awkward silence, but a comfortable one. Sherlock loves hugs, as Wesley had quickly figured out. He found them to be reassuring and that they made him feel safe and loved. That's how Wesley wanted him to feel. He wanted to provide this man with love, but he wouldn't overstep the boundaries. He'd let Sherlock go at his own pace, as not to overwhelm him. Slowly, Wesley let go off Sherlock letting his hands linger on his waist for a few seconds before letting his arms drop to his sides. Sherlock pulling back at the same time.

"I'll see you soon?" He inquired. Sherlock smiled and nodded his head in agreement.

"Yeah, I'll see you soon" he confirmed before walking up to the door, unlocking it. Before heading up to his flat, he turned and gave Wesley a small wave. Wesley smiled and waved back before walking down the road, heading home.

John stayed situated by the side of the bin for a few more minutes. He did this so he didn't look suspicious when he followed straight after Sherlock, unaware that Sherlock already knew he'd followed him. Slowly, he stood up and headed over to the door. As he put his hand on the handle, his mind wandered back to Sherlock and Wesley. Sherlock had looked so comfortable with him, enough to let him put a hand on his waist and hug him. Wesley was obviously decreasing his speed to match with Sherlock's as not to submerge him in too much affection. He seems to be slowly adding in new affectionate gestures, building Sherlock's confidence with it and finding out what he can and cannot do.

John realised he'd been stood at the door for quite a few minutes, hand on the handle, and hadn't entered. Luckily, it was quite late, so not many people were around to see him frozen at his own door.

Sherlock took off his coat and placed it on the coat rack. He strolled across the room and sat in his favourite chair, crossing one leg over the other. He decided to wait for John to come up, he wouldn't tell him he knew about the following. That would just embarrass his flatmate, and he was taught by John to not humiliate people for his own entertainment. John was taking quite a while to come up. 'Must be trying to trick me' Sherlock thought. Placing his hands together in a prayer's pose, he placed his hands under his chin, resting under his chin on the tips of his fingers and closed his eyes. Instead of going into his Mind Palace though, he started to listen intently. He was listening for his flatmate. He could hear Mrs Hudson making a cup of tea downstairs, and then suddenly a door opening. A smirk found its way to his face. 'Here he is' Sherlock opened one eye to great the doctor as he made his way up the stairs and through the door to their flat.

"Date, I assume" he stated bluntly. John met his gaze and nodded a bit too quickly.

"Yes, I decided to go out on a date to preoccupy myself" he replied, trying to be nonchalant. Sherlock, obviously, knew more than John let on, but he left it at that. Aggravating John was not on his list of things to do.

"I see, did you enjoy it?" Sherlock questioned. John raised an eyebrow, turning to look at him.

"Why don't you deduce it? Like you always do" John countered.

"You told me that I need to calm down on deducing people."

"Right, I did say that." John ran a hand over his face frustrated. "Yes, I had fun. She was quite chatty though" John said, answering Sherlock's question. Sherlock nodded, even though he knew that John was lying. Sherlock got up out of his seat and headed to the kitchen to put the kettle on.

"So, how was your day?" John asked suddenly. Sherlock got two mugs out, waiting for the kettle to boil.

"It was great, thanks" Sherlock smiles at his flatmate before placing his attention back on the tea, pouring the water into a teapot and adding a tea bag. John nodded before going to change into his pyjamas to get more comfortable.

Sherlock sat in his chair, opposite John, with a cup of tea in hand. They'd been silent for a while now, not having anything to say. John wanted to ask questions, but he also didn't want to pry and give Sherlock the idea that he's jealous or envious. The hug he'd seen between Sherlock and Wesley had made him feel odd though. He had felt like he wanted to go and break it up, no matter how mean that may be. He was becoming selfish. He didn't want anyone to have Sherlock, but he couldn't stop the young man from pursuing love. John shook his head, trying to clear it. There's no need for those thoughts, maybe it's time for some shut eye. Nodding curtly to his internal question, he got up and headed off to bed after saying a quick goodnight to his flatmate. It's just that it's weird; he's not used to Sherlock dating. That's why he's acting weird. He's not jealous, it's just that Sherlock is acting out of character and it's strange to him. That's what he liked to believe.


	4. Another Date

It was a cold winter morning when it happened. John woke up and had a shower; dressing warm since the flat was cold. Sherlock had been out all night, whether he came came back is anyone's guess. John hadn't heard him come in, but John was also fast asleep by 9:30 after a long shift at Bart s. To warm himself up, he made a cup of tea and put the fire on. It was peaceful. Quite a comforting silence that John was happy to dwell in. When you live with Sherlock, peace and quiet isn't obtainable most of the time. Now that he thought about it, that was quite concerning. No sound. Did Sherlock stay out all night? Maybe he came back and got called in for a case. John scowled at his next prediction. Maybe he stayed over Wesley's. That thought riled him up but, before he could elaborate more on it, someone walked through the kitchen. Good, he didn't stay there then John physically relaxed as he heard Sherlock walk through the kitchen to the living room.

Oh, hey John, I didn't realise you was up. John scowled again. Not Sherlock. John diverted his gaze to the tall man with dark brown hair sticking up every which way. Of course, it had to be Wesley.

Good morning Wesley he greeted blankly, void of emotion. Wesley didn't seem affected by John's lack of tone though, just decided to make some tea. John couldn't bare holding back the pressing question.

Why are you here? He inquired. He heard the spoon stop twirling in the cup before he got his answer.

My apartment is having renovations done to it and Sherlock offered me to stay here for a few days. I hope you don't mind he answered. John did mind. He minded a lot. There was nothing he could do though, for Wesley was Sherlock's boyfriend. He can't stop them from being together, as much as he'd love to. No, that's fine he replied bluntly before setting his laptop up. Wesley shrugged at John's nonchalance and headed back to the bedroom with two cups of tea. Sherlock was happily lazing in bed, bordering between asleep and awake. His icy blue eye were glazed with sleep and half shut. Most of the time, he didn't sleep. He had to admit though, lying in bed with someone else's warmth and presence was nice. This is what had lulled him to sleep. Sherlock Holmes had discovered that he liked cuddling. How strange, Anderson and Donovan would probably choke on air if they found out he had a boyfriend, let alone that he liked cuddling. The man who is described as cold and unlikeable, is actually a cuddle monster. Sherlock couldn't stop the snort that left his mouth.

What's got you giggling then? Sherlock looks up to find said boyfriend smiling down at him with two cups of tea. Sherlock sits up and reaches out for one.

Nothing, just thinking Wesley chuckles lightly, handing him a cup.

It's nice to see you cheerful he says, sitting next to the detective. Sherlock smiles before he sips at his tea. They sit in quiet for a while, just enjoying each other's presence.

John was disturbed by a knock at the door. He got up and headed down the stairs to answer it, knowing Mrs Hudson had gone out so she wouldn't answer it like usual. Opening the door revealed a familiar face.

Greg, what are you doing here? Case? John asked, and pretty much answered his own question. Lestrade shook his head and smiled.

No, just thought I'd drop by since I haven't heard off the git you call a flatmate in a while. Thought I'd check if you are both alive he chuckled. John grinned, letting out a chuckle himself, before moving aside and letting him in. Lestrade headed up the stairs ahead of John. He'd been wondering where Sherlock has been. He hadn't heard off of him in a while, usually he's texting him every five minutes to find out if he had an interesting case. In all honesty, it had gotten him quite concerned.

Sherlock listened to the footsteps coming up the stairs. He could tell who it was right away.

Lestrade is here he states, breaking the silence. Wesley looks at him and nods before putting his empty cup on the side.

You should go out and see him, you haven't seen him in a while he smiles. Wesley hadn't met Lestrade yet so he'd probably just stay in the room, unless Sherlock decides to introduce him. Sherlock sighs frustratedly before getting up, putting on his silk blue robe. He left the room with a mutter of I'll be right back. Lestrade spotted the blue clad detective waltz out of his bedroom. Sherlock had his usual nonchalant face on as he approached the Detective Inspector.

What is it? I'm busy he asks bluntly. Lestrade shakes his head and chuckles. Typical Sherlock.

Just came to see if you're lanky self is still alive Sherlock scowls before sitting down in his chair.

You could have just texted me, much easier he says grumpily. Lestrade rolls his eyes, he's never really appreciative of anything that man. He's used to it by now anyway. Lestrade turns to John and starts a conversation with him.

So, John, any plans? He asks conversationally. John nods.

Yeah, I have another date today as he says this, he quickly checks the time which I'll be late for if I don't hurry. John picks up his pace, grabbing his coat quickly and putting it on. Lestrade nods.

Well, have fun, I'll be off, nice to see that you're both alive he says, glancing at Sherlock before turning to leave. I'll text you if anything comes up Sherlock, but the crimes haven't been as complicated lately. He adds before leaving. Sherlock huffs before turning to John.

Another one? I do hope you've picked a woman who isn't overly chatty this time John. I know how you like to converse equally, not one-sidedly. He says before twirling around, blue bathrobe swinging with him, and heading back to Wesley. John nods. Hopefully that will be the case, he hadn't asked Cheryl back out after nearly calling her Sherlock. Not that he would've anyway, he didn't feel a connection with her since she had a trait that was one of his biggest pet peeves. Oh well, best not keep his new date waiting. She seemed nice enough, Rachel was her name. She said that she was a bit shy, so maybe they'd get along a bit better than he and Cheryl did. Zipping his coat up, John headed out of the flat and to the venue. Maybe tonight would go well. 


	5. Situation

Now this is what John liked, a date that goes well. It's been about six months since Sherlock revealed his relationship status and John has been on numerous dates. They helped to take his mind off of everything. Rachel was lovely. She had light brown hair in a bob cut and striking golden brown eyes. She didn't talk over him, she let him speak and he did the same. They were getting along, they had many common interests and he could feel a connection between them. Finally, a decent date. He'd gone through an estimate of eleven different women to reach one who's just right for him. His internal thoughts are hoping that this goes well. He needs someone by his side. He needs someone else besides Sherlock. Why? He doesn't know. He just feels that if Sherlock is serious about his relationship, he may move in with Wesley. He may leave John behind. As crazy as that may seem, since Sherlock would probably never leave John, he'll still prepare for that scenario by finding a woman to be with.

Their date is interrupted by his phone chiming. Great, if that's Sherlock he's going to be furious. Luckily, Rachel had left to go to the toilet so he quickly checked his phone. The name that greeted him wasn't who he thought it would be. Lestrade.

'Arson. Sherlock is on his way, I'll send you the address." The address followed quickly after. If Sherlock was there, he didn't really need John right? John ignored the text. Another one followed a few minutes after.

'Please come, we need your help' John ignore sit once again and put his phone on silent. No more interruptions. Rachel came back and sat back in her chair opposite him. He gave her a charming smile and ordered dessert for them both. It was nice to talk with someone and not be criticised or belittled. It was nice to get to know someone else. Only problem is, he's missing all the frantic phone calls and texts from Lestrade.

John, being the gentleman he is, walked Rachel to her home down the road. She didn't live too far away, only a few blocks from the restaurant. He gave her a kiss goodnight and headed home. On the walk home, he remembered about Lestrade and wondered if Sherlock had found the culprit. Pulling out his phone, he checked his messages. Twenty missed calls and fourteen unread messages. John was shocked. Why so many? He started scrolling through the messages, but one caught his eye that was sent twenty minutes ago. John instantly picked up his pace and started running to a new destination.

'Come quickly, we're at Saint Bartholomew's hospital.'

Lestrade was pacing back and forth in the waiting room. He was currently waiting for information; diagnostics. The worry on his face was evident, he didn't know what to do. He'd been texting and calling John over and over, but no answer. Where the hell was he? Lestrade sighed and tried to calm down. A few people had been announced dead. He'd been sat here, eagerly waiting for some information, watching family by family breakdown in tears at either a passing or a severe injury. It was heartbreaking. Absolutely heartbreaking. How could someone be so cruel? Setting fire to a place full of people just for fun. They hadn't caught the culprit, or culprits. Sherlock didn't even look. There was just a look of realisation and shock on his face before he did what he did. Being on the crime scene when there was a fire being put out always made it more difficult, which is what made having Sherlock around even better. Sherlock can find things easy without even going near the building. The problem with arson was that most of the evidence gets burned. The only evidence you can find is usually around the building. Letting out another sigh, Lestrade dipped his head into his hands, resting his elbows on his knees. This was going to be a long night.

It was about half an hour later when John walked through the door. Lestrade looked up and could feel the fury build him as he shot up out of his chair.

"Where was you? I messaged and called you multiple times!" Lestrade tried desperately to contain his voice to a low volume, but failed at doing so. He was livid. He knows that John read his message, he just knows. He also knows he was ignored due to John being on his date. John bit his lip, feeling quite guilty for ignoring him.

"I was with my date, I couldn't just leave" he counters.

"It never stopped you before. Why did it stop you now?" Lestrade asks, frown lines on his face accompanied by furrowed, angry, eyebrows. John fidgeted, deciding whether or not to tell the truth.

"I… I wanted to have time to myself, away from Sherlock" he said honestly, leaving out his selfish thoughts. Lestrade pinches the bridge of his nose and sat back down.

"Just sit down, I'm still waiting for news on Sherlock's condition." He muttered irritably. John didn't question it, just sat next to him and waited with him.

"Sorry, John… I'm just concerned about him, I didn't mean to snap at you" Lestrade admits, breaking the awkward silence. John nods, understanding completely.

"That's alright, I understand" he replies. They sat in silence for the rest of the wait.


	6. Injuries

The wait was long and nerve-racking. Every minute felt like hours, every hour felt like days. They had been there for about two hours, but it felt like so much more. The constant worry that the news would be negative swam around their minds at every moment. There were quite a lot of people injured, so of course it would take a while to get around all of them. Even though they knew that, they couldn't shake that nagging feeling. As if something was wrong, that it wasn't going to be good news. Lestrade's foot tapped the floor erratically. Lestrade cares about Sherlock a lot. He may joke about checking if he's alive, but he does it in concern. All he can hope is that Sherlock will be alright and nothing life threatening has happened to him.

It was torture. Absolute torture. Watching nurses and doctors walking back and forth, delivering good or bad news, and none of them walking towards them. It was a nightmare. It was horrible enough to witness the distraught families, let alone watch doctors and nurses pass right by them with no news on the friend. It was like trying to cross a busy road. Cars whizzing past in both directions, no traffic lights to stop them. Wanting to cross, but not finding a suitable gap. You know you'll get there eventually, but the waiting makes you impatient, you want to get there now. Just like how they want the news now, to get it over with and so they know his condition.

At last, a nurse walks up to them in his hospital garb. He pushes his glasses up onto the bridge of his nose and asks them if they are here for Mr Sherlock Holmes. They both nod eagerly and he reads out Sherlock's diagnosis; four broken ribs, smoke induced pneumonia, a broken right wrist, concussion, and a couple of bruises and cuts. John and Lestrade let out a sigh of relief. He's alive, that's the main thing.

"Can we see him?" Lestrade asks eagerly. The nurse nods and leads them to Sherlock's room. Lestrade is very anxious to see him. The last he'd seen him was when he was covered in blood and in the middle of a coughing fit before being taken away by an ambulance. He shivered at the image. It was nauseating and heart-wrenching to see the young man like that. He wanted to see that this scene would be different. That this time, he won't be covered in blood.

Slowly and quietly, they entered the room. They didn't want to awaken Sherlock if he was asleep. When they were fully in the room, they seen that Sherlock was awake with half lidded, bloodshot, eyes. The man was as pale as snow, his striking blue eyes obtained a hazy glaze to them. He reminded Lestrade of Snow White in this picture. Skin as pale as snow, hair as dark as coal. Even though Sherlock's hair wasn't black, it still stood out in stark contrast to his pale skin. Walking forward, followed by John, Lestrade placed a hand on Sherlock's shoulder gently.

"You alright sunshine?" He asked gently. Sherlock slowly moved his eyes to look at him; finding it hard to focus on him due to his concussion. It takes him a while to register what he's been asked and even longer to form an answer.

"Yes" he's slurring and lisping. He's finding it hard to talk without doing so due to the concussion taking over his mind and, in turn, his functions. It was unnerving to see the well spoken man look so disorientated and hear his words merge and waver. Lestrade couldn't help himself, before he could think of the consequences, he reached out and ran a comforting hand through those unruly curls. After doing so, he winced internally. That won't go down well. He began to retreat, pulling his hand back from the younger curly locks. What surprised him though was how Sherlock's head followed his hand as it left, letting out a disappointed whine at the loss of contact. Not needing to be asked twice, Lestrade placed his hand back on the detective's scalp and began raking his hand through his hair again. Sherlock relaxed instantly, letting out a low noise of contentment that vaguely resembled a purr. Lestrade had never seen Sherlock like this. So content. It was a nice look for the usually wired and sullen detective. John was astounded by the allowance of physical contact. Usually Sherlock didn't let anyone touch his hair. It was a shock. Shaking his head of these thoughts, he decided to ask what was on his mind.

"What happened to him?" Lestrade diverted his gaze from the half conscious Sherlock to John.

"Have a seat" he commanded. "I'll tell you what I know."


	7. The Reveal

John waited patiently for Lestrade to explain. He had no idea what happened, only that they went on a case about an arson. He was worried though. With the injuries Sherlock sustained, what had happened?

"You see, John" Lestrade started, taking a pause before continuing. "Sherlock isn't as heartless as we think. He knew there was people still in there. How he knew? Well, that's just Sherlock for you. Probably calculated the amount of people who regulate that area and counted everyone outside or something." Lestrade cut off to chuckle lightly before he is face turned sullen again. "He went in after them, to lead them out. He didn't come back out though. The firemen had tried to stop him, but Sherlock can get past anybody. Luckily, they found him. He was unconscious though. Others had ran out since he pointed out the exit, only he and one other remained because they were unconscious." John gapes slightly as he finishes. He'd done all that? John spared the incredible man a glance before turning back to Lestrade. Lestrade was currently running his hands through Sherlock's locks. Sherlock had a very contented look on his face as he slept away the pain. Lestrade had always been like a father figure to Sherlock. Lestrade was very paternal with him and cared a lot about the ex-drug addict. A small smile adorned John's face at the scene. It was quite endearing to watch.

All Sherlock could see was waves of people and flames engulfing the building. The panic began to rise in his chest. There were still people in there. He just knew it. Not giving himself time to think of the consequences, he sprinted to the entrance. He could hear Lestrade calling out frantically for him to come back. The firemen were doing their best to stop him, but to no avail. Sherlock was determined to get into the building and, when Sherlock is determined to do something, he'll stop at nothing to do it.

Entering the building, flames are whipping about everywhere. The heat is overwhelming and the smoke clogs his lungs. He continues on though, pointing the way to people he passes who are desperately trying to find the way out. Sherlock watches as people leave, counting them. He knew how many people were here, including staff members, and he'd also heard how many had been found. There was just one more. One more person who hasn't been found, and Sherlock is fixated on finding them. Carefully stepping over debris and avoiding the ever-growing flames, he searches for the last soul. His search gets more and more desperate as time goes on. Seconds feel like hours. Those few seconds could be this person's last.

To Sherlock's relief, he finally finds the last person. Before he can get him out though, his own body gives out. 'Too much inhalation of smoke' he thought, taking a quick check of what his symptoms were. Falling down next to the other body, he finds his ability to walk and breathe becoming a bit harder by the minute.

"Fancy meeting you here" Sherlock smiles lightly, he'd be happy of they weren't in such a dire situation.

"What are your injuries?" He asks, getting straight to the point.

"Some debris has landed on my leg" he cuts off to cough before continuing. "I can't think of much more… Sherl, I hate to be a downer, but I don't think I'm going to make it." Sherlock shakes his head vigorously, refusing to believe his words.

"Wes, please don't. You're going to make it, they're looking for us. Just hang on… Please" he begs. Sherlock doesn't usually beg, but his boyfriend's life is on the line. Wes smiles weakly at him.

"I wish I could sweetheart, I really do, but I've inhaled too much smoke" a harsh cough follows his statement. Wesley moves his hand and places it on Sherlock's waist.

"If I don't make it, I'll always be there Sherl, promise. You'll move on. Maybe in a week, maybe in a year, but you will. If you search for another love, you'll find one. They'd be lucky to have you sweetheart." He reassures, Sherlock can't help it. Tears start to fall from his eyes. Just when he finally found someone to be with, someone who understood his nature and personality. Wesley smiles sadly, moving his hand up to his boyfriend's face to wipe away his tears.

"Don't cry Sherl" he coos.

"I want to see you happy, sweetheart." Sherlock smiles lightly through his tears, leaning into his touch. Sherlock moved closer to Wesley, trying to make their last moment together something cosy and intimate. A sad sigh leaves his nose as he leans his forehead against Wesley's. With a thoughtful look on his face, Wesley decided to ask Sherlock a question.

"I know you are uncomfortable with certain romantic gestures, but could I kiss you? Just a peck, I promise" Sherlock smiles at him. He really appreciates Wesley's hesitancy with him, it really helped to make him more comfortable with having a relationship.

"Of course" he answers, smiling. "This could be our last moment together. I want it to be special, I'll always remember you of course. I just want-" a finger found its way to his mouth to shush him. His eyes were greeted with a smiling Wesley.

"I understand sweetheart, I want our expectant last moment together to be something to remember too" he smiles. Carefully, he wrapped his arms around his waist and pulled Sherlock into a hug. "I love you Sherlock" he states, tightening his hold on the detective's waist. Sherlock let a whimper escape his lips, tears running down his face again.

"I love you too Wesley" he replied, nuzzling Wesley's forehead, bumping their noses together. Wesley soon followed with reciprocating tears. Gently, he placed his lips against Sherlock's plumper ones in a small kiss. He didn't want to overwhelm him, like always. He always made sure he kept within Sherlock's comfort zone. Sherlock relaxed into the kiss, enjoying the sensation.

Wesley pulled back slowly after a few more seconds. Sherlock sniffled as they parted.

"I'm going to miss you if you go Wes" he admitted, tears flowing in bigger drops. He carefully snuggles closer to him. Wesley provides him with a sad smile and pulls him closer.

"I'll always be there sweetheart" he repeats, placing a soft kiss into Sherlock's dark curls.

Finally, they hear voices shouting what sounds like "we found them!" Sherlock let out a sigh of relief. Maybe Wesley would make it. He hoped so. These were his last thoughts as he lost consciousness in Wesley's frightfully limp hold and the debris covered them in its embrace.

Sherlock shot up in bed with a yelp, followed by a screech of pain from the movement. Lestrade jumped out of his seat, head shooting up from his position of head resting on the bed. He had been asleep before Sherlock woke up. A wince left him at the sharp movement, body aching from arching his back when placing his head on the bed.

"What's the matter? Are you alright?" Lestrade asks, concern lacing his voice.

"Where's Wes?" He instantly asks. Lestrade furrowed his eyebrows in confusion, who is Wes?

"Sorry sunshine, who?" Sherlock suddenly realised he'd never spoken to Lestrade about Wes. Sadly, he didn't get to voice up about him since a doctor emerged to see what was wrong. He'd tell him, eventually. As soon as he knows if Wesley made it. He hopes he did. He really hopes he did.


	8. The Reveal About Wesley

The doctor rewrapped the bandages on Sherlock's body and double checked if he was alright before leaving. Sherlock was still tense and upset from his sudden flashback. He needed to know if Wesley was okay, if he was even alive. Sherlock shook his head vigorously to rid the thought. He can't be thinking like that, he needs to have faith in him being alive. Sherlock tried to relax, slowly reclining into a comfortable position. His mind was racing though, the questions swirling around like a whirlwind in his brain.

John strolled in with three cups of tea, one for each of them. Before he could even place the cups down, Sherlock darted a question at him.

"John? Can you go ask them for a Wesley Lizowski and see if he's okay?" John could see the fear in his best friend's eyes. He didn't know Wesley was in the fire as well. With a curt nod, he headed out to ask reception. He didn't like Wesley, but he hoped he wasn't dead. The look in Sherlock's eyes was of sheer panic, he didn't want his flatmate's fears to become a reality. Making it to the front desk, he asked the question that was on Sherlock's mind. A solemn look was a part of of the man's response.

"I'm sorry, Wesley Lizowski was pronounced dead at the scene" John wished he hadn't had to hear that. He wished it wasn't himself who had to break Sherlock's heart. What could he do though? He couldn't lie to the poor man and give him false hope. With a deep breath in, he nodded in thanks to the receptionist and headed back to Sherlock's room. This wasn't good news, he hoped he could deliver good news not bad. He couldn't imagine the devastation this would bring to his friend. He didn't want to imagine it. He didn't want it to be a reality either. Unfortunately it was though and John really didn't want to be the one to tell Sherlock.

"I'm sorry Sherlock, he didn't make it" he announced as he stood beside Sherlock's bed. He wished Wesley had made it, for the tears pouring from Sherlock's eyes were heartbreaking. Lestrade, now in on who Wesley was, instantly jumped up and wrapped his arms around the sobbing man.

"I'm so sorry sunshine, so sorry" he muttered softly into the unruly curls on Sherlock's head. Sherlock continued to cry in Lestrade's arms, not wanting to believe his boyfriend was gone. This was his nightmare. He stayed in Lestrade's arms for what felt like hours, just crying his eyes raw. He ran out of tears to cry. He just sobbed and sniffled, no more water. Sherlock currently had his back pressed against Lestrade's chest. Lestrade was running his hand through his hair comfortingly, trying to provide whatever help he can. John sat in front of him, whispering gentle words of comfort to him. He was talking about their cases and how they first met, trying to guide his mind. John knew it wouldn't work, but he hoped the slight distraction would help calm him down.

After he finished crying, Sherlock was a sniffling mess. Eyes red raw, splotchy red patches on his cheeks and a runny nose that he constantly wiped at with tissues. It was heart-wrenching to see the usually unbreakable man so shattered and vulnerable. Lestrade and John hoped they'd never have to see him like this again. Hopefully he'd move on soon. They knew it took a while to get over a death, but they didn't want to see Sherlock this upset again. They couldn't handle the sad and broken look in his eyes. They'd help him. They'd be by his side to guide him through all the dark moments to come. They'd provide him with comfort and friendship to get him through it. Sherlock, eyes raw and face wet, slowly drifted off to sleep in Lestrade's arms, exhausted from all the crying and lulled by Lestrade's ministrations. Lestrade kissed the top of his head gently, affectionately, and continued running his hand through his hair. He had always seen Sherlock as a son, he didn't let anyone but him know that though. Gently and soothingly, he rocked Sherlock side to side and rested his head beside his. John smiled at the interaction. He knew Lestrade cared deeply for Sherlock and it was endearing to see that care show through. That's how it went for the rest of Sherlock's sleep.


	9. He'll Be Alright

After Sherlock was released from the hospital, everything turned dreary. Sherlock wouldn't speak much, he wouldn't let anyone in. Everyone understood, he was grieving about his boyfriend. It was a shock. No one had known Wesley was in the fire. No one was aware that he had passed away until John had asked. The look on Sherlock's face was permanently etched into John's mind. The devastated expression was heartbreaking and would forever sadden him. If only there was something he could do for him that could put a smile on his face. The somber look was horrible, John didn't want to see it anymore. He had done everything a good friend would: stayed by his side, comforted him, and wiped his tears.

Said man walked out of his bedroom, rubbing at his bloodshot eyes. That was another thing, Sherlock slept a lot now. Well, really he sits in his room and ends up crying himself to sleep. John prefer to think of the first reason though, the sight and/or thought of Sherlock crying himself to sleep was too much for him to handle. Sherlock curled up in his chair, wearing an oversized jumper to keep warm. His eyes were blank, unseeing. It was disturbing to see the, usually enthusiastic man, so broken. John didn't want this to be reality. He wanted to wake up to Sherlock excitedly shouting about a case and rushing him to get dressed. Sadly, this wasn't a dream. Life isn't a fairytale, everything can't be perfect and happy endings don't always happen. If only life was a fairytale, where everyone could be happy and nothing bad could happen. What a perfect world that would be.

"How are you feeling today?" John asks the recurring, every morning, question. Sherlock sniffled, rubbing at his tear irritated eyes. He didn't answer for a while, but John knows to be patient with him. It's hard to coax responses out of Sherlock after what happened.

"Fine" one word answers. That was what they progressed to, starting off with no words. John nodded at his answer and handed him a cup of tea that he had made when he heard the detective shuffling in his room. Sherlock took the cup gratefully, blowing at the hot beverage before taking a sip. A small, content, moan left his lips as the tea soothed his dry throat. He sank back into his chair, relaxing a bit. John knew that this wasn't going to be easy. He had to be there for Sherlock, and he would be there for him. Maybe one day, he'll be able to move on. He hopes so anyway, he doesn't want Sherlock to have this depressed cloud raining on him for years upon years. It takes time to stop grieving and John would be there through all of it.

"I'm here if you need me" John states, reminding Sherlock of his loyalty to him and how he won't leave him in this state. Sherlock smiles lightly, circling the rim of his mug with his index finger. He knew John cared, and he really did appreciate it. Without Wesley, he'll still have John. He's not alone, and he's so happy to know that. He doesn't have to go through this alone. John can help him to move on.

"Thanks" Sherlock expresses his appreciation for his best friend. John smiled.

"You're welcome" he responds before getting up, patting Sherlock's shoulder as he walks to the door. "I have to go get milk, will you be alright on your on?"

"Yeah" Sherlock confirms with a reassuring smile. John smiles back, hesitating a moment before leaving to go to the shops. 'He'll be alright' he thought, 'he'll get over this.'


	10. The End to Sadness

It's hard to move on, of course it is. The feeling of having someone you love and care about taken away from you in any way is heartbreaking. I know this, everyone knows this. Even though those times are hard, we move on. It takes time. It can take weeks, months, years, but we slowly move on. Maybe not fully, but we carry on with our lives. No matter what happens, when you have someone else there who loves you, who will hold you and chase your tears away, you can slowly move past your sadness. Again, you may not fully recover, the memory will always be there, but when your surrounded with love, it just makes everything that little bit easier.

It took longer than weeks. It took longer than months. It took a year and a half for Sherlock to calm down and become himself again. We were all happy to see the sullen man become his enthusiastic and crime solving self again. He smiled now, and it was finally genuine. He walked around the flat without dragging his feet and lowering his head. He speaks his knowledge like he used to. I never thought I'd say this, but I missed his unconscious insults. I missed his thoughtless comments and actions. They were what made Sherlock who he was. He wasn't the solemn man we seen crying himself to sleep every night for the past year and a half. This was who he was, and that's what I love about him. He may be an arse at times, I won't deny it, but that arse is mine. His personality I meant, not his actual arse... But that's mine too, just to say.

We found the arsonist. It was Moriarty. He planned to kill Wesley since he knew how close he and Sherlock had become. We didn't capture him, but his last words to us were 'I told you Sherlock... I'll BURN the HEART out of you!' Wesley's death was all to hurt Sherlock. Wesley was Sherlock's love, and Moriarty targeted him because he was his heart in that moment. It was awful, but it's over. Moriarty left and Sherlock is better.

So here I am now, smiling to myself. I finally have the one I love back. We all know that Wesley would be so proud of Sherlock. He lost someone so dear, but he still managed to pull himself out of his stupor. I just know that Wesley is smiling down on Sherlock. Happy that he's finally smiling. As we exchange the rings to each other, I know now that everything will be alright.

"I love you Sherlock Holmes-Watson, I know you've been through a tough time, having your heart burnt out of you. I only hope that I can repair it with myself. I know I can't replace Wesley... But I'd be honoured to have the space next to his in your heart, if you'll let me." Sherlock has tears in his eyes, one's of happiness. I hope I can keep him from ever crying a sad tear again. His arms wrap around me, encasing me before I can continue.

"You always had that place John... You've always had it" he said softly. "You've always been so important to me... When Wesley died, I didn't know what to do with myself until I seen your face. As soon as I seen you I knew I'd be able to get through it. Now here we are, six years after Wesley's passing with wedding rings and a shared surname. I can feel his presence, and it's so happy John. He only ever wanted me to be happy, and right now I'm ecstatic. I couldn't have asked for anyone else John." It's now my turn to cry. My arms found their way around his waist and a hand found its way to his unruly curls. I love this man, and the love is returned. Together, we can get through anything. Together, we can spend the rest of our days.

Applause and coos broke us out of out trance, a smile lit our lips. This was a new beginning for the both of us. We have each other, and all of our friends and family. I never thought this day would come, but I guess dreams really do come true sometimes. This dream, was my biggest.

 **The End** **I hope this ending isn't as abrupt as it felt :{ I hope you enjoyed reading :D**


End file.
